Butterfly Fridays
by SassyAngel
Summary: AU: Slight GaaraSakura. In which not all things are insubstantial and shallow, and in liquor there is truth.
1. Butterflies

Disclaimer Don't own Naruto, nor anything remotely associated to it.

**Butterfly Fridays**

Gaara hated Fridays.

It wasn't the fact that it was the weekends, the beginning of more work for him instead of less because he didn't have a normal sleeping schedule like most people and usually worked more to keep from being bored. It wasn't the fact that he was usually left alone to mind the family tattoo parlor, because he liked his solitude. Even if he tolerated his elder siblings' presence as well as one could, being as his brother still played with dolls and his sister was more manly than his brother, solitude was still better. It wasn't the fact that he had nothing to do on Friday nights, because he considered working and making money doing something. No, Gaara hated Fridays because Fridays was the one day of the whole week when he was left alone at work when twice the usual range of giggling girls would somehow find themselves in a tattoo parlor.

Don't get him wrong, he didn't dislike girls, though he didn't like them either. Most of them showed up, batted their eyelashes and usually asked if he tattooed genitals. Excuse him while he quickly put on his disposable gloves so he could bitch slap each one of them into common sense. It didn't help that most of them wanted butterflies. Was there anything sissier, more girly, and more utterly despicable than fucking butterflies? Gaara didn't think so.

It was always the same with these girls, whom Gaara liked to call 'butterflies' after the most popular tattoo with the crowd. Tattoos were a way to make a statement that they too, conformed to the normal way of society by getting something that was supposed to set them apart. They didn't bother to think of the long term affects of tattoos, and most seemed to think the tattoo would be able to be rubbed off in a week along the same time their current boyfriend dumped them or whatever.

Gaara was sick of tattooing butterflies on the small of the backs of giggling girls who seemed to find him attractive. If Gaara had given a rat's ass about how cute he was, he probably would try to get more sleep to improve his pale complexion and diminish the black bags under his eyes that he hid with excessive amounts of eyeliner. Not because he was ashamed of his appearance without them, mind you, but he found that excessive eye makeup would usually send those butterflies twittering back to whoever's mouth they'd been attached to last.

The women who bothered to stay usually had more challenging things for Gaara than butterflies. In fact, the last woman who he tattooed had gotten Gaara to give her a custom made tattoo, which couldn't have made Gaara any happier. That is, if Gaara had bothered to show it. Along with excessive eyeliner, Gaara found that glowering at people who displeased him or would displease him would send his target running with their tails tucked between their legs.

Of course, his elder sister Temari scolded him when she had the nerve, telling him that it was only bad for business, and that glaring at everyone wasn't going to work forever. Kankuro, his elder brother, would say sternly things about how business would plummet, especially since Gaara was usually left alone in the shop to do most of the tattooing. Kankuro was better suited for an office and Temari, when she showed up, would often patronize Gaara until he either left or he broke a few things. Since neither one was good for business, Temari only opted to work when Gaara wasn't around, since quite frankly, Gaara's unpredictable temper scared her. The thought brought an evil smirk to his lips. As his behavior should.

Gaara let his elbows rest easily on the black counter, idly flipping through his own artist's portfolio, feeling a strange welling of pride as he let his fingers twitch over the pictures, remembering how long each tattoo had taken, who had gotten it, and admired how each tattoo had turned out. Usually, when someone asked to see his artist's portfolio, Gaara would simply point to his own forehead, where the Chinese character for love was engraved in what looked to be the color of blood.

Even though Gaara would never tell anyone why or how he had gotten the tattoo, not even his family, Gaara had done it himself. He had carefully outlined the character in the mirror, taking extra care to make sure that it wasn't backwards. He had lovingly cleaned the skin, sterilized the needle, put on his disposable gloves and started. The whole thing had taken about an hour, but only because he had made sure to do everything slowly and perfectly. It was his tattoo, and no one else's. Most people seemed impressed with that amount of skill, and few bothered to see the other tattoos he had bestowed upon people.

Unconsciously, he rubbed his forehead where his tattoo was, as if to remind himself of the message he had hoped to engrave into his mind forever, in both ink and something else. It was his only tattoo, if mostly because he didn't trust anyone else with a needle. Besides, further marring of his body was unnecessary. He was perfectly fine with his own as of late.

He was broken out of his revere when he heard the jingling of the door, signaling that someone had entered. Temari had insisted they get one so it would 'feel like a real store' and not some 'back alley tattoo parlor where prostitutes got tattooed'. If prostitutes ever got tattooed, Gaara would never know. With that lifting thought in mind, Gaara first glimpsed her.

She was short, since she was only a few inches shorter than Gaara, and Gaara was considered to be a shrimp. She had a smooth complexion with peachy skin with a healthy glow that perhaps Gaara could have if he bothered to sleep regularly. There was a slight swelling of curves in the right places that sloped gently along her body, proportioned perfectly to make her look like a model, if only a miniature of one. She had cotton candy pink hair, spilling to the nape of her neck, where it was brutally cut off as if some slightly sharp object had been yanked through it. Gaara let a brief thought flow through him, wondering if it was natural or if she was rebelling against some over loving parents. It was the hair that startled him at first, but then he turned his somewhat bored gaze to her face, he was slightly amused by her lips the same shade as her hair, a pert nose that was probably cute even when she wrinkled it, and her bright green eyes, so wide as to seem almost childish. To sum it up, she looked like a kid. It didn't help that she was wearing a spaghetti strapped pink and white dress, matching sandals, and a white ribbon in her hair. Looked like another butterfly had fluttered into his shop again. And what was more, she was intoxicated. He could smell her all the way from the counter, which was a good few feet from the front of the store. This was going to be fun.

"We don't tattoo drunks," Gaara told her flatly, "especially not ones under sixteen. Come back with mommy and daddy in a few years." He didn't even bother to look at her anymore. Most of them left after that speech and his trademark 'Leave before I kick your ass' glare that sent grown men cowering. Most.

"Like hell I'm under sixteen." She said angrily, and if it wasn't for the pretty drunk flush across her pale cheeks, Gaara would have thought she was sober. She once again confirmed how drunk she was by not being able to walk in a semblance of a straight line to his counter. As soon as she made it the excruciating six feet to the shiny counter, she promptly fell against it, sighing as she rested her cheek against the counter. Her eyelashes fluttered closed, and Gaara noted that they were also pink. Guess that explained if her hair was natural or not. "You… you don't look much older than me." She told his left shoulder somewhat vaguely, and she blinked at him owlishly, as if she had just woken up. Without another word, she dug around in his purse, also pink Gaara was somewhat disgusted to note, and pulled out an ID.

_Haruno, Sakura_

_18_

Gaara only gave her a piercing look that usually sent drunks like her stumbling backwards on their bottoms, apologizing over and over again before they quickly fled the store. Sakura Haruno, if her ID was in fact correct, didn't even bat an eyelash. Instead, she took one look at his scowling face that seemed to amuse her so much as she burst into hysterical fits of laughter.

"Picture looks that bad, huh? I thought so too. Which is why I cut off all that hair." Sakura gestured vaguely to her skull, before resting it heavily on the counter. "Showing my big fat forehead…" She mumbled unhappily, leaving Gaara to once again wonder why all the butterflies decided to show up on his shift. And drunk no less.

"No tattoos for the intoxicated." Gaara told her in his flat voice, wishing fiercely that perhaps all these woe begotten girls showed up at Temari's shift. At least she'd be able to bitch slap them back into reality. Gaara had to be polite, because he was a male. And because of the extra appendage between his legs, if he so much as looked at a girl funny, he could be slapped with harassment and sent to jail. Again. And if he was going to be sent to jail, there was no way in hell the girl would get off scotch free. There was a perfectly good reason that most people edged away from him. Something about him was like a toxic cloud, spewing out some sort of black bestiality that most people managed to keep caged in their skins. Not Gaara. Even though he just happened to be spewing twice his normal amount of toxin, the girl didn't even bother to look a bit frightened. In fact, she seemed to be looking at him as if he was something extremely fascinating and not that all scary. She should just be grateful that there was a counter separating them.

"Why?" She turned her wide green eyes back up to him, using a sugary sweet voice. Gaara mentally tried to recall a nice place, one without butterflies. All he ended up with was a bloody desert with some corpses strewn about and a liberating knife in his hand. Moving on…

"Because alcohol thins the blood and makes you bleed more if I jab a needle into you." Gaara knew a few spots he'd like to jab a needle into butterflies like Ms. Sakura Haruno. And nowhere pleasant.

"Just one itty, bittty tattoo, please! Just a tiny one! It won't take a minute!" She paused, and then snorted out more laughter that sounded like painful sobs. "I don't mind the bleeding. I already feel it here." She placed a hand over her heart, smiling goofily like it was the funniest thing in the world. The gesture seemed terribly sad to Gaara, but he offered no comment and stared at her impassively. "It's not even going to be anywhere nasty! Just here!" Without further ado, she tipped herself over the counter, and pointed to her left shoulder blade. Or at least tried to. Instead, she ended up missing and hitching up her dress instead, until it was almost indecent. She seemed confused as to why pulling up her dress didn't automatically point to her shoulder blade.

"Where's your boyfriend?" Gaara snapped instead, frowning at her. Anything instead of looking at her thighs. Girls like her usually had their boyfriends within their general vicinity, just because they liked to have something to hold on to. She didn't so much as flinch at his glare, but instead slumped down even more, feebly glancing at him from below the counter. She looked as if his glare had wounded her emotionally, but not scared her.

"I don't have one." She all but sobbed, and Gaara inwardly rolled his eyes. Great. Then who was going to get this fucking butterfly off his counter? "See, I was going to tattoo his name right here, but he… he…" With this, she gave a slight sigh, as if trying to remember her train of thought. And then she brightened. "Oh, he told me I was a hindrance to his life and happiness. But I still love him, see? So I was going to get a tattoo to remind myself that love hurts. Right here." Again she tugged vaguely at her dress, almost as if she was scratching an itch or how Gaara rubbed his tattoo sometimes without knowing it. "He has one there too, you know. A tattoo. It's like a swirl." She executed a half-turn as if to prove her point, but stumbled halfway.

Gaara wasn't sure on how to answer that, mostly because what she said hit so close to home that it bothered him. He had gotten his tattoo to remind himself that he only needed his own approval, no matter how twisted that it might be. That love was only an illusion that people used to their advantage like wealth or power. He wanted this butterfly gone, and he wanted her gone now. Since when did they start noticing that love was a fake? If the butterflies figured that their boyfriends didn't really love them, then he'd be out of business. Having tattoos of boyfriends' names and covering them up was the bread and water of the tattooing business.

"Your mom then. Where's she?" He said snidely. He didn't feel like dealing with a drunk, especially not one who was insightful.

"At home. She thinks I'm spending the night at Ino's." Sakura leaned forward so that the stench of alcohol breathed off her in a cloud. "But I'm not." She told him in a conspiratorial whisper, as if it was the biggest secret in her shallow life. Promptly, she burst into more giggles, no doubt of her cleverness. When Gaara simply glared down at her, she laughed harder. "You look just like him! He always glared at me like that!" Sakura straightened so abruptly that Gaara would have taken a few steps back in surprise if he hadn't been anticipating strange things to happen. "And then he'd say in that really deep, sexy voice of his," she paused as if for dramatic effect, "'Sakura, you're annoying.'" This seemed to bring her even more perverse pleasure as she promptly laughed so hard she fell backwards. Fearing that perhaps she might crack her skull all over the ground behind her, and thus giving him more to clean up, Gaara caught her wrist and hauled her back up. Sakura looked up at him tipsily, smiling. "Thank you…" She paused, squinting at his nametag. Gaara hated anything that encouraged costumers to become the least bit friendly with him, but he tolerated the nametag because Kankuro paid him extra to wear it.

"Gaara." He told her, mostly so she would shut up and partly because he was still holding her wrist and it seemed like the polite thing to say. Abruptly, he let go, scowling at himself. Polite thing to say? Fuck, he was becoming a regular nice guy. Next thing you know, Gaara would be opening doors for you and taking your coat. Yea, right after he slit your throat.

"Gaara," Sakura said dreamily, "ends with an 'a'. Like my name. Maybe we're soul mates." Gaara didn't think so, and it must have shown for a split second on his face, because Sakura's eyes started to water. "Or not. You're probably a huge, unloving bastard like Sasuke. You probably don't give a flying shit about me." More tears. Even if Gaara, self-proclaimed monster and didn't give a damn who knew it, hated to see women cry. It must be a guy thing, he reasoned, because even if he really didn't give a flying shit about Sakura, he didn't want her bawling. All that snot and spittle and tears… he was going to have fun cleaning this place as soon as he convinced her to leave. Hopefully she didn't vomit like the last one.

"He doesn't deserve you." Gaara told her unemotionally, if only to shut her up. For all he knew, this Sasuke could be the wronged party. Gaara certainly felt wronged, having to put up with a drunken butterfly who probably wouldn't stop crying unless Gaara sat down and hugged her. Which would happen when hell froze over and Kankuro came out of the closet.

Sakura snorted, and unlike what Gaara had hoped, the tears continued to dribble down her face, collecting like dew at her chin. Despite himself, he was fascinated by her tears, if not uncomfortable. Temari never cried, as was the tomboy way, and the last girl who had cried in his presence had been one of those butterflies, whom he really hadn't given a flying fuck about and she had cried because he had told her, quite frankly, that he wasn't interested. But at least she hadn't stayed and wailed, like Sakura was probably about to do. If only to pacify her, he shoved some Kleenexes at her from behind the counter, as one would toss meat to a lion in hopes of deterring it from eating you as you ran. Sniffling, she took a handful and wiped her eyes, then blew her nose rather noisily. She glanced around, seemingly not sure what to do with them, and seemed now in the right of mind not to toss them back at Gaara. He produced a trashcan from behind the counter and she gratefully threw them away.

"You're right. I deserve better than a heartless jerk, right? I mean, I've loved him since I was six. I've always been there for him, always supported him, and I've always gone out of my way to change for him. I even grew my hair out for the jerk when I heard he liked long hair. And I hate long hair. It makes me look like some prissy princess from candy land." She took another tissue and blew her nose harder. Gaara tried not to make a sharp retort on the pink hair comment, for he had nothing nice to say. And he decided that since she was stabilizing, it was probably not a good thing to provoke her. "I mean, I even begged my parents to let me go to his school, even though it was a private one and we had to wear these dumb uniforms. Even if it meant that I had to be separated from my friends, I wanted to be with him." Gaara was beginning to wonder if perhaps that this Sakura was a stalker. As if sensing his thoughts, she frowned angrily at him. "But of course you wouldn't understand! You don't know me at all! You probably only think that I'm some delicate little shallow girl who only thinks about herself!" That was exactly what Gaara had been thinking. "Well, fuck you! I don't give a shit about Sasuke anymore! In fact, I purposely didn't go to his birthday party today. Not that he even noticed…" Gaara watched her passively, wondering why he was even bothering to listen. Maybe it was because she had used the word 'fuck' and it had been somewhat amusing to hear such a vulgar word coming out of such a pretty, preppy, pair of pink lips. She buried her face in her hands, giving a slow moan, as if something was clawing its way from it stomach to her throat, not a happy sound, but one Gaara recognized. One of pure lost, hope, and despair. Despite her childish appearance, it was apparent that this Sakura had more to offer than meets the eye. "I gave him everything." She whispered brokenly, and Gaara could only wonder what this sudden ache was in his chest. Was it… sympathy? For stalker Sakura? Hell no! But there was something about the way she looked when she took her face away from her delicate hands, as if someone had eaten everything on the inside and had spat out all the waste. Gaara recognized that face. Gaara understood her emotions. He had gone through them once… a long, long time ago. And he was a stronger person because of it.

"Ditch him." They were both surprised at the words that Gaara said, none more so than himself. He wasn't supposed to concern himself with stupid, shallow things like butterflies. They died within a week or two. But something about her, the way her eyes were devoid of anything, as if life had just beaten the spirit out of her. It was a look Gaara knew well.

"I know, I know. But I've tried!" She sighs desperately, grasping his hands in earnest as if to convince both of them, and Gaara almost pulled away but her eyes are pinning him. Something within her cried out, reached for him, and touched somewhere in the dark attic of his mind where he doesn't care to remember.

_Darkness… _

_Loneliness… _

_His only companion a one eyed bear with stuffing instead of a heart… _

_Frustration…_

_Rage…_

_Confusion…_

_He was tired of being alone and drifting…_

_Blood…_

He shook the thoughts off, but couldn't do the same with her hands.

"It's hard… when you've loved someone forever that it feels like losing an arm to cut him off." She paused, her hand drifting to her bubble gum pink locks, Gaara's eyes following. "Or hair." She mused lowly, before turning those startling green gems back at him. He still hadn't moved, even though he was screaming at himself to. It's not good to get caught up in the affairs of butterflies. They were insubstantial… shallow… they died within a week at most. But somehow, he wanted to know.

What did it feel like, to be loved forever by someone? He wanted to ask, but didn't care to. His mask was firmly in place. Nothing could set it aside without his consent. Least of all a pink butterfly. She glanced up at him, as if sensing his thoughts. Her eyes were tired, but there seemed to be some spirit lurking. Something light and alien, swimming beneath the seas of her despair and doomed love. Something that Gaara never saw in his own, cold eyes whenever he bothered to glance in a mirror. She sighed, slipping her grip from his, and Gaara was almost annoyed with himself that he cared she was pulling away.

"It's just that… I never knew how much he meant to me until I was ready to let him go. I never realized that I clung so much to him for my own happiness." She shrugged, tipping her head to the side to grin at him. "But I suppose you know all about that, huh? Love and loss. You look like the kind of guy who's been screwed over in the past." Gaara couldn't help himself. He smirked, which usually scared people away since his smirks were most often followed by bodily harm to the individual he was grinning at. He didn't know why he hadn't already maimed this Sakura Haruno, because she had broken all the social rules he had set for himself. She had touched him, she cried around him, and she was a butterfly. Perhaps not as delicate as he first thought, but still a butterfly. He didn't bother with her types. But why were they both still here? Gaara should just retreat into the back room and hope that she left before he found the bat that Temari kept around to threaten the bums who didn't get the idea to leave. Yet somehow, he didn't mind her presence. And that bothered him, because she was drunk, spilling out her life story, and she looked as battered and bruised as he often felt. And he hated her. He wanted her gone.

"Come back when the liquor wears off." He told her snappishly, turning to leave and go in the back to find that bat, when he felt her hand on his arm. He froze, mostly out of surprise. She was touching him again? And he hadn't bitten off that hand? He must be getting soft.

"Sorry. I don't usually act like a total ditz." When Gaara turned to glare at her, she only smiled and shrugged. "Okay, most of the time I'm not a drunk ditz. How about this, once this wears off, I'll get a tattoo from you. And give you a huge tip for your trouble." She smiled, a soft, hesitant smile, but a smile nonetheless. Despite himself, Gaara found himself forgetting about the baseball bat in the back, and instead let himself plant his feet firmly on the ground. He turned and gave her his fiercest glare, as if to see what she would do. If she flinched, he'd get the bat. If she didn't, well… she'd be the first. Surprisingly, she didn't flinch. In fact, her smile widened and her eyes softened slightly. She had said that he had glared like this Sasuke guy. Maybe she was replacing Sasuke with him. But even if that was the reason… Nobody bothered Gaara, and nobody bothered to befriend him. This girl though, seemed to be willing to stick around even after her buzz wore off. What was wrong with her? What was wrong with him?

"How much have you had to drink?" He asked sharply, and she blinked at him, almost startled by his rough voice, the way he yanked his arm away from her hand. But she was too used to being brushed off, and by in much colder ways.

"Um… about less than a pint…" Sakura said, tipping her head to the side, as if embarrassed to admit she had gotten drunk off such a small amount easily.

"You have to wait an hour before your liver works all the alcohol out. That is if it's healthy." Sakura looked interested, watching him with keen, intelligent eyes that were no longer glazed over by the alcohol or the despair. In fact she looked… radiant. She smiled again, a gesture that almost made him breathless. Then she stuck out her hand, smile softening to something… friendly.

"Well, I suppose if we're going to spend an hour together and then some, I might as well introduce myself properly. I'm Sakura Haruno. It's a pleasure to meet you." When he didn't show any signs of shaking her hand, she shrugged, letting it drop to her side. She didn't look at all perturbed, in fact, she didn't even seem the least offended. What a strange butterfly…

Gaara might have said something particularly biting, perhaps how it wasn't a fucking pleasure to meet her, but she was smiling at him again, a wide, friendly, open smile. Her eyes once shrouded in despair were shining as if the curtains of a window had been whisked away, leaving only brightness and sunlight. And somehow, he felt he was the cause of this change in appearance, and he… liked it. Even though he scowled at such thoughts, he couldn't help the next one that flittered through his mind.

Somehow, Friday didn't seem like the worst day of the week anymore, and perhaps all butterflies weren't terrible.

**Author's Notes:** Sorry for Gaara being terribly OOC and the plot being so stupid. Please read and review anyways.


	2. Flowers

**Flowers**

Gaara never wanted to be a tattoo artist.

For one thing, he never could draw very well and the sight of blood made him a bit happier than what was considered socially acceptable. Not to mention the numerous childhood… accidents he'd had with needles that made all of his family members wary of him with sharp objects in general. But it was either that or go into politics like his father, and that was unacceptable to Gaara. Even he had to have standards, though mostly they were buried somewhere deep below the dredges of society's.

It was his uncle who had convinced him to take care of the place, since it was his and his siblings' technically and he couldn't bear to work there since Gaara's mother had been the only one to really care for it. It had come into existence through her hard work, tears, and sweat, and it had been here that his parents met. Though Gaara wished this catastrophic event had never happened, seeing as how his father was a major asshole and his mother had died giving birth to him and had in doing so cost him a lot of grief. It was also from her he had inherited his heinous temper as well as the tattoo parlor, the trait that had ironically attracted his father to his mother in the first place.

And it was times like these that he wished he had a different mother to inherit traits from, or at least had never been born at all like all the rest of the world had wished.

Kankuro, back from whatever 'come out of the closest' workshop he attended more regularly than any type of church, was currently coddling him out about costumer appreciation. Occasionally, his elder brother brought up Gaara's problems to his group members who all either a) believed that Gaara was angry because he had yet to come to terms with 'his homosexuality or bisexuality' b) needed to get laid or c) was a lonely little boy who needed to be hugged and cuddled to the point where the cleansing tears of love and tenderness overcame him and baptized him into a better person.

Whoever voted 'A' should know that Gaara had in fact had many girlfriends, and was glad to get rid of them as soon as he did 'B'. And it was obvious why whoever the fuck believed it was 'C' was in a therapy group.

"You know Gaara," Kankuro was saying in his patient, 'see look I'm a good big brother even if I am a girl trapped in a man's body' bullshit voice, "I got twenty three complaints about your callous behavior just last week. I know that you are not a people person," here Gaara inserted a snort and continued to clean the equipment instead of taking up a needle and jabbing it in his elder brother's throat which would have made the lecture much more enjoyable, "but I know that as soon as you see that not all people are bad, you'll enjoy working here much better." At this point, Gaara had turned around, hands wound tightly across his chest, glaring down at his brother even though he was a good inch shorter.

The technique of making grown men cry at the slightest twitch of his pupils was something Gaara had perfected since he was little. It was also the reason his father never really wanted to hold him when he was a baby.

Kankuro had now effectively shut the hell up and retreated quickly into his office, leaving Gaara satisfied and alone. As it should be.

He turned around, ready to enjoy the silence he had earned and perhaps flip through some of the magazines Temari had lying around just to laugh at the newest 'fashions' when he met a familiar pair of apple green eyes. As soon as he made eye contact, instead of running for the hills like any sane person would have done, he was granted a brilliant smile and the sound of the non-hooker bell ringing as Haruno Sakura swung to the counter.

"Afternoon!" She said happily, seeming non-pulsed as he only shot her his 'didn't I tell you to go drop dead painfully and slowly in a ditch somewhere?' glare. For some odd reason, she'd been dropping by every afternoon at exactly four thirty, after she'd finished most of her school work and gone to stop by Choji's to pick him up number four.

He didn't know whether the food was to make sure he didn't kill her or because, as she put it, 'he was skinnier than a stick' and she needed to 'fatten him up'. If this treatment was so she could eat him, he wished she would hurry so he didn't have to put up with the fact that a girl brought him lunch every afternoon. He was just glad Kankuro was in his office and would most likely be whacking off in there until this place closed.

He accepted the package she bought for him faithfully everyday sullenly, since he knew if he refused she'd just hover over him until he ate it. Like he needed a goddamn mother. So ignoring her satisfied glance that he'd even taken the damn thing, he started eating methodically and refused to even look at her as he did so.

According to her, Choji was a good friend of hers and let her have free food anytime she wanted. It sounded suspicious to him, since 'free' to him made him think of cheap shit that fell apart as soon as you poked it, and though he wanted to ask what she gave Choji in return, he decided showing such interest like that would only encourage her to keep coming back here. He just decided that eating the stuff wasn't as bad as say, the mental imagery of Sakura doing anything to anyone.

"Sorry it's kinda cold. I would have come in earlier but your boss looked like he was giving you a lecture and I didn't want to have to help you hide the body." She started, and Gaara almost sighed. As soon as she was sure he was eating, she'd start blabbing. Anything from bizarre medical terms that sounded like venereal diseases to how her day had been fabulous cause she'd finally beaten this guy at Shogi who was supposed to be a genius. Mostly though, she talked about Sasuke. Unfortunately. He was pretty sure that he knew enough about this guy to write a fucking novel. He decided that he'd just tune her out if she so much as started a sentence with an 'S'.

"You know, I really should be thanking you." _That_ got his attention despite his efforts, since no one thanked him for anything. Not Kankuro for letting butterflies flutter out of here alive, not from Temari for keeping this place spotless since she was a slob, and certainly not from his father for anything. He watched her silently for a moment as she flipped through his artist's portfolio, not quite sure why he even let her touch his most prized possession. She still had yet to pick out a tattoo.

"Ever since I started coming over here to talk to you, I've been Sasuke-free for almost two months." She gave a slight laugh, staring directly at him, eyes shining. He decided ignoring her was still the best tactic and continued to shovel food. Once again, she didn't take the hint and continued on. "The only time I managed to do that was when I was so sick I was almost dying. Time I figured I wanted to be a doctor actually." She paused, looking back at him. "So thanks. I know it must be a huge pain in the ass for you to have to suffer through my presence all the time."

She paused, and when he didn't deny it, she gave him a playful hurt look. "Fine, I'll just take the food and go." When she reached for it, he moved it easily out of her grasp. He never ate breakfast and since she started bringing him food, he saw no reason to make himself lunch. Don't get any wrong ideas like thinking he liked this shit.

He ignored her small laugh, letting her go back to flipping through his portfolio. Though they'd been through countless designs, all the ones on the walls, his sister's portfolio, and his own, she never seemed impressed with any of them. It infuriated him to no end, but at the same time he had to respect the fact she took this seriously. Seeing her with such a concentrated look made him wonder how long it took her to pick a college. He was shocked that she even knew what she wanted to do with her life.

"But I have another huge favor to ask." When Gaara sent her a glare, she only smiled innocently. If she hadn't just fed him, he might have had to maim her. "Naruto is throwing a party today, and I was wondering if you want to go with me." He was so sure he'd heard about Naruto almost as much as he'd heard about Sasuke. Not fucking likely he'd go anywhere near that guy.

When he didn't seem impressed, she sighed, blowing up her pink bangs. "Fine! I need a buffer from Naruto and Lee because in my quest to stay Sasuke-free, I cut off a lot of my friends for a while. I know that was wrong, but I had to get away from all of them. They are good friends, but most of them would only try to get me to make up with Sasuke for 'my own good'." She paused, biting her lower lip slightly, searching his face. Though she hadn't known him for long, she had this uncanny ability to pick up on what he was thinking or even sometimes how he was feeling. Since Temari's form of women intuition was when was the right time to kick a guy's ass or whenever there was a sale on decorative fans, he had yet to get used to Sakura's sharp senses.

"And Sasuke will most likely be there since I told Naruto I'd be there." When Gaara only crossed his arms across his chest and glared down at her, she clasped her hands in front of her, eyes begging. "Please! I'd like to think we've become good friends, and friends help each other out. Even though I'm annoying as hell and you never talk doesn't mean you have to leave me out to dry!" Still, he wasn't impressed. Then she got down on her knees, hands folded as if she was in prayer. She looked close to tears. Now Gaara gave a slightly nervous glance to Kankuro's office, which thankfully was still closed. He didn't know how he'd explain this to his elder sibling.

"Get up." If anything, that only seemed to translate to her to make herself more comfortable on the floor. Foolishly, when he'd accepted the food, he'd stood in the little doorway that the counter had to let costumers in the back so they could get their tattoos. Now Sakura had wedged herself around his legs in the tiny space, tugging on his shirt with her face pressed next to his leg. He was not going to illustrate how uncomfortable this made him, especially since no amount of squirming would get her untangled. Gaara HATED being touched. He was going to jab this fork so far up her ass she'd never get the idea of doing this ever again. When he tried to do just this, it seemed Sakura used her freakish intuition and pinned his arms to his sides. And the snotty little bitch was stronger than she looked!

"Please Gaara!" It was then he noticed she wasn't so much as crying as she was laughing. She was fucking dead.

"Get the hell off me." He was trying to pry her head away from his leg when the non-hooker bell rang again, and his other sibling from hell waltzed in, looking happy but tired. Shit. Of all the times for Temari to get up off her fat ass to help out…

"You would not believe this antique store I found! It had all these fans- What the fucking hell is going on in here!" His blonde haired sister stopped in front of the counter, eyes bugging out. Gaara and the pink haired prison had both frozen and all three just looked at each other dumbstruck. He was sure he could hear the rarely used cogs in Temari's head grind to a screeching halt as she tried to process the scene. And then everything exploded into motion.

"Holy fuck Kankuro! You have got to see this!" Temari hollered just as the door opened to admit his other sibling, who was complaining about the noise. Sakura had the common sense to let go of Gaara, who didn't know who to stab first with the plastic fork, since he knew he'd only get about one good shot with it before it broke. Like he said, cheap shit.

"Keep it down!" Kankuro said, just as he noticed that they in fact, had a costumer. Instantly he was Mr. Salesman, next to Sakura before anyone knew what the fuck was going on and starting his spiel about how lovely this tattoo parlor was and how everything was about quality here. And yes, he used the fucking pussy word 'lovely'.

"Can it you dumbass! She's with Gaara." That made both of them look at Sakura as if she had just announced that she was made of money and could shit the stuff out for them for their viewing pleasure. At least she looked sheepish and embarrassed enough that Gaara almost felt like not burying her. Almost.

"She is not." He said shortly, arms once again crossed over his chest as he frowned at his siblings. In an amazing show of apathy, they ignored him and quickly sat Sakura in a chair and starting firing off the questions.

"How long have you two been seeing each other?"

"You're the one that always brings him lunch! How sweet!"

"What do you see in him? He's a little psycho!"

"Do you know about his criminal record?"

"Do you really know what you're getting into by being with him?"

"Has he sent you to the hospital yet?

"How many times have you hugged him? Cause I can count the times on one hand that I have and still have fingers left over!"

"Is your hair really pink?"

"Shut up." Instantly all eyes were back on Gaara, who felt as if he was spewing nuclear energy. It didn't help that Sakura looked more amused now than embarrassed. Instead of them doing as he commanded as they usually would, Temari and Kankuro turned on him.

"How come you never told us you had a new girlfriend?"

"Where'd you two meet?"

"Awww! Does she make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside?"

"Do you see yourself having a future with her?"

"Please tell me she'll make you less homicidal!"

"She doesn't look like the usual whores you pick up. How'd you score her?"

"Is her hair really pink?"

"Yes!" Sakura finally said, turning the attention back to herself, though she looked as startled as everyone else. Finally, she cleared her throat and said in a smaller voice, "My hair is naturally pink. Don't ask how it's possible." Gaara didn't know whether to be grateful she was answering his siblings' outrageous questions or angry at her for even bothering to acknowledge their stupidity. Guess which one he chose.

He glared at Sakura, who smiled sheepishly at him. Instead of heading for the door like she should have been, she turned back to his siblings.

"We're just friends is all. I've only known him for two months, but he's been really helpful to me. See, I've just gotten over this really toxic relationship…" Gaara couldn't fucking believe this. Kankuro was nodding his head and being all sympathetic like he learned in group therapy and he was surprised Temari didn't start taking notes. He hoped all of them could still be this chummy as they suffered a long time in hell. "…So I want him to come with me to a party my friend is throwing as support, you know? He's been really helpful to me so far, and I was hoping I could ask one more favor. I guess it was stupid of me to even assume he'd want to help me anymore though. I'm such a mess." Kankuro was patting her hand comforting and Temari was actually being something close to feminine by saying soothing things, even if it was a bit awkwardly. Both of them, however, managed to glare at him. If they thought they were going to make him feel guilty enough to even consider this crazy shit…

That's when Sakura glanced up at him, the same hopeful look she'd given him the first time he'd seen her, and it twisted up inside like steel and needles. This time she looked close to tears for real, and he didn't know what happened to the tissue box he kept in case of emergencies, and it's not like he could slap the shit out of her when she was this down. He fucking hated her.

"It's just one party Gaara, it can't kill you! God damn prick, she's your friend!" Temari snapped, and Gaara fought the urge to roll his eyes or get the baseball bat in back. All of them were morons. Why did they buy her story so easily? He decided conveniently not to recall that he had done the same thing too, when he first met her.

"This might be therapy for you too, Gaara" Kankuro added thoughtfully. Between all three of them, he was fucking trapped. He glared at all of them, but none of them so much as batted an eyelash.

"Forget it." The stalemate was broken as Sakura stood up, chair shrieking as she smiled at both Kankuro and Temari. "I didn't give enough notice anyway. Besides, part of being strong is being able to stand on your own, right?" None of them looked convinced, though Gaara couldn't agree more. However, there was something broken about the way she smiled at him, waved her hand to signal that she was leaving. If she walked out of here, she probably would never come back…

"Choji will be there." Why the hell did he say that? It seemed like his IQ had been steadily dropping with each lunch she brought him. Fucking pink haired bitch probably poisoned it with stupid spray. She paused at the door, glancing back at him quizzically. He gestured to the take out she'd brought him, and her smile widened.

"Of course! It'll be a huge feast! You don't even need to stay with me all night! You can just pig out to your heart's content!" He shrugged, and he'd never seen her look so happy. She smiled, and somehow it was enough. When she left, he glared back at his two siblings, daring them to say something.

"Well, looks like we're going to have to dress you up a little." Temari said, frowning slightly at him in disapproval.

"Have you seen his wardrobe? Nothing in it but funeral colors. What are we going to do with him?" Kankuro complained, though they looked at each other mischievously, all but rubbing their hands together.

Choji have better have cooked enough food to feed a fucking army.

Author's Notes I know, it took forever and this chapter is still kinda iffy. To tell you the truth I never was going to continue this. Just thought about it a bit and you guys convinced me! Thank you all for your support! And I do desperately need a beta reader, so if anyone is interested, let me know! Please do read and review!


	3. Sunburn

**Sunburn**

Gaara didn't follow fashion the way that most people did. Trends were something he had never found the least bit interesting and all the more constricting, though he did approve of the trend that people should get tattoos for obvious reasons. In fact, he prided himself on his complete ability to be apathetic to almost everything. Except for, perhaps, some good food, the suffering of others, and an in-depth documentary on serial killers.

Even Gaara had his weaknesses.

So when Kankuro, little Mr. Let's Put on a Dress When All Else Fails in Life, opened Gaara's closest only to find seven identical shirts, mismatched pants, and a few questionable clothing articles that could have been socks or scarves in a previous life, he nearly had a heart attack. Temari had to lug out her huge ass fan to get enough air into their sibling's lungs.

"Do you see this? Where have we gone wrong with him, Temari?" Kankuro complained in near tears after he'd come to. "We feed him, shelter him, let him poke people until they bleed and even pay him for it, yet he cannot use this money to clothe himself? People must think that we just shove him in a closest when we're done with him…" At this point Gaara had turned to shoot patented death glares at Kankuro, who immediately shut up, while Temari shook her head slightly.

"Honestly. That Sakura seems like such a _nice_ girl. What she sees in you I can only wonder… Well, might as well pick out some nice clothes for you so you won't look so satanic." It was decided between his other two siblings unanimously that Gaara needed new clothes, and the only way to procure such clothes was to go shopping. Even though Kankuro was about Gaara's size, neither brother were swapping clothes, mostly since Kankuro claimed that Gaara had not bathed and would reek up his clothes and Gaara was convinced that he would contract some sort of disease if he put them on. Gaara would rather wear something out of Temari's closest, if only because she owned a pair of pants and not say, a leather cat suit. Gaara couldn't erase that horrible memory even if he wanted to.

And while Gaara was still trying to rid the horrifying image of Kankuro in a skintight leather cat suit from his mind, he was promptly clubbed over the head with Temari's huge fan, stuffed into the family car, and driven to the mall. Just in case you didn't hear that, they drove him to the mall. THE _FUCKING_ MALL of all places. Gaara had only set foot in the mall two times in his entire lifetime.

Once was when he was about five and his father was on a big campaign about reducing youth violence and to show what a strong family man he was, he brought along his lovely family. Fucking bullshit was what it was. Gaara wasn't even sure how his father had managed to get to where he was today. The only explanation that Gaara could come up with was that his father was someone else's bitch. This never failed to make his day considerably less dark.

The second time he had been dragged, kicking and screaming, with Temari and a gaggle of her girlfriends to 'scope out guys'. This was during Gaara's 'let's set everything on fire to see it turn to ash' phase, so he could not be trusted to stay at home alone. Needless to say, his memories of the mall were his connotation for hell. Except, perhaps, hell was nicer because at least there'd be fire and brimstone and someone telling him he was a sinner. That he could deal with, but not the mall.

All he had to say about the pain in the ass ordeal was that at least the salespeople didn't follow him around like they usually did in other stores, like they expected him to steal things just because he had a tattoo on his head. Please. Gaara would most likely show up with a gun if he was going to do that shit. Too birds with one stone kind of thing. He got to release some anger with bullets and get money.

The place that was he would most likely show up totting a gun, and this was a hard competition, was this place where people matched the gist of his clothes. Most assumed because their color décor matched that they could approach him. He just hoped that person whose nose was now broken knew that Gaara was not remotely approachable just because they both wore black.

In the end, Kankuro and Temari decided it was best for them to pick out his clothes, and for once Gaara didn't bother to complain what they shoved at him. He was so desperate to get out of the place he probably would have put on a giant chicken costume and done a jig on a table just to leave. He decided that as long as he had come out unscathed, though mentally couldn't count because he was too fucked up there to even know if something new was wrong, he would not kill his siblings. Torture them, taunt them, burn their things, yes, but killing them could wait. Kankuro was the only one who knew how to drive after all, and to just make this day even more peachy was to be stuck in the mall parking lot for hours.

"So, you think she'll like it?" Kankuro asked worried, tugging at his own shirt since when he'd tried to straighten out Gaara's attire, which felt like porcupine ass rubbing all over his skin it was so new, Gaara had nearly broken his arm. He wasn't even in the mood to give his usual warning glare, he just went straight for the jugular.

"Well, this is the best we can do, really. Just hope for the best." Temari stated, lounging comfortably on Kankuro's bed, since his room was the only place besides the bathroom that had a mirror. The only difference was that Kankuro's was floor length and bedecked with decorations that would not have been out of place in a shrine. No fucking joke.

It is also important that he point out that his siblings had, in all their sensitive glory, not even bothered to ask Gaara what he felt about the whole deal. They only asked each other what Sakura might like or what she might think, and despite his whole belief that he couldn't give a shit about the girl, he found himself wondering what she would think. How could he have fallen so fucking low? He felt angry as hell to find himself realizing that he'd put up with a whole load of shit from his siblings, the hell minions at the mall, and the whole damn world in general just to do something Sakura had asked him to do.

Death.

That was the answer to all of this. His or hers, as long as he saw red all would be well and natural in this world.

He was just about to tug the whole mess over his head, storm back to his room to wear his clothes, and set fire to everything in this whole hellhole when he heard the doorbell ring. Everyone but him straightened up immediately, and Kankuro was at the door before you could say 'who dropped the soap?'.

"Now," Temari was saying, standing in front of him, hands on her hips as she assumed her strict, about to put on a strap on stance, "don't drink too much. We all know what happens when you get drunk. Don't stab anyone, insurance won't cover it anymore. Please do not throw anyone out a window, and no biting. If you are going to spend the night, please call so we don't worry." By the end of this whole spiel, which was not necessary, Gaara felt the corner of his eye was twitching. He had only gotten drunk once, he hadn't stabbed someone despite the numerous urges he had to do so lately, and the last guy who'd been thrown from a window had deserved it. And he hadn't bothered to bite anyone since he was a toddler. It didn't escape his sibling that his expression was murderous, since Temari immediately took up her, 'please do not kill me' expression.

Despite what everyone thought, Gaara did not explode without warning. There were plenty, if one bothered to look. First and most often used was the glare. If someone furthered pissed him off, they got the glare and he crossed his arms, mostly to keep himself from slamming something into the target's sternum. Next was his eye twitching, which signaled he was just ready to inflict mass damage to whoever happened to be in range. The last, most apparent sign, and the one that his siblings feared the most, was this look he'd get on his face. Gaara had never seen it in the mirror, and by the time he'd gotten to this stage, he couldn't have cared less what was happening to his face so long as someone was dead.

He was still highly pissed when he marched out of Kankuro's room, Temari trailing behind him a good distance.

"Wow!" Sakura was saying, glancing all around the house, with the awed expression of someone who had just gotten the grand tour.

For some reason that was wasted on Gaara, most people seemed to like this house. Kankuro called it the mansion, which was probably a better description. It had three stories, two different dinning rooms, a recreation room, an indoor and outdoor pool, its own mini movie theater, and a garage full of antique cars that their father loved more than them. And that was just some of the things Gaara bothered to mention. He didn't care for some of the other things the house contained, like that library they probably had somewhere…

Their family wasn't poor, mostly due to the fact their father did his best to use his campaign funds to keep up house. They even had a chauffer, which was why Gaara had never had to learn to drive. The fact that he shouldn't be let behind the wheel of a vehicle because it was more destructive than a gun wasn't even mentioned.

"Why didn't you tell me that you lived in a mansion?" Sakura asked, more star struck than accusing. Her whole reaction was why he didn't tell people about where he lived. Most people assumed that he just slept under the tattoo counter, and truth be told, that was more home to him than this place. This was just the cardboard house painted over with pretty lies that he was stuck in until his father released the death grip he had on this family. Of all the people that Gaara hated, his father was the top, both because he longed for his father's acceptance and at the same time despised such a stupid longing. His father would accept him once he became blonde, blue eyed, and a pro at sports.

He didn't bother to justify her question with an answer, and tried to get away from this whole situation by storming out the door. Unfortunately, his siblings were blocking the door, trying to hide their snickers but failing miserably.

"Isn't he so cute?" Temair cooed, all but falling over herself laughing, Kankuro agreeing with a, "We should take pictures!" Gaara knocked them both out of the way with more force than necessary, ignoring Sakura's protests as he stormed out of the house. Even though they probably had a few cracked ribs right now, both of his siblings howling laugher managed to follow him all the way to Sakura's car. When they got in, Gaara shut the door with more force than was required, and Sakura winced a bit, glancing at him. She bit her lip awkwardly, searching his face as if the right words to say were labeled on his forehead right next to his tattoo.

"You look nice." When Gaara only scowled, she flushed, turning away from him, spitting out a quick, "I'm sorry." Well she better damn well be! He was wearing a fucking pair of pants that were tighter than what was normally comfortable for him. He felt like someone had just put the entire lower half of his body in a very small prison cell with needles everywhere. _And_ he smelled like new clothes from the mall. Not to mention he was going to a shitty social event. On a Friday when he could be working perfectly outrageous hours and not having to worry about some pink haired idiot's wanton wishes. "If it makes you feel any better, I'll take them off your hands for a day. Temari said she likes Shogi and the park where I play it in is right next to this really cute clothing store for Kankuro…" She paused when he sent her a furious glare, and sighing, she ran a hand through her hair.

It hadn't escaped his notice that she looked different than she usually did when she came to the tattoo parlor. The only way he could explain it was that she looked more… highlighted. As if she'd taken all the usual dirt and grime of her everyday life off her skin and hair and she was left with a luminous shine underneath. Her hair was done differently, she wore a dress that thankfully was not pink, and her face was touched up with enough makeup to make her features less childish and more like… a woman's. He wasn't sure what to think about this change, which was obviously for Sasuke, and so decided he'd do what he did with every decision he couldn't make. Get angry at whatever was making him indecisive.

"Gaara…" She had her hand on his shoulder, and he grabbed her wrist to snap it back till it broke since he was in no mood to be touched _at all_, but her hand slid down to his shoulder blades and messaged out the rock of a knot that was there. It was a mix between pain and relief, and he gripped her wrist harder as if trying to stop blood circulating and thus her touch, but she kept messaging until it felt like too much work to simply do anything but allow this. "You're way too stiff! Temari said your mattress was like a rock, but honestly…" She teased, smile back on her face. Gaara said nothing, keeping his unwavering gaze on her face. Her smile gradually faded, but there was something on her face that unnerved him. "This… is okay right? Kankuro says you hate being touched." And he did. But for some reason, the feel of her hand working out all the knots and chips that life had buried deep beneath his skin made him feel sleepier and more relaxed than he had when he wanted to snap her wrist off. Not that he'd tell her.

When he said nothing, the smile returned and unfortunately, she removed her hand in order to start up her car.

"You feeling less homicidal?" She asked, which was of course a no, but he knew if he admitted this, she might try to message his back again. No way in hell. First time had caught him off guard and he wasn't going to let her get the impression she could fucking touch him whenever the mood struck her. So he opted to instead to stare out the window.

Sakura also kept oddly silent the whole time, knuckles white on the steering wheel, with worry creasing her brow. Gaara had a feeling if he decided to randomly jump out of the car onto the asphalt below that Sakura wouldn't even notice. Was meeting Sasuke this stressful? Somehow, the thought of Sakura suffering through a night didn't appeal as much as it should have…

Gaara could hear the music from the party about half a block before they actually found the house, which was a rundown sad little affair that made him think of a crumpled paper lunch bag with a door stuck on it. There were cars everywhere, however, and even though Sakura's touch was still a warm memory, he felt the old tension of seeing numerous people start to bunch up between his shoulders like coiling snakes. The more people there were inside, the higher the chances of him being unwittingly touched and the less chance there would be food left. Damn it. If this night turned out to be a bust, he would be royally pissed at Sakura.

He was about to get out of the car, because the sooner he arrived, the sooner he could leave, but he noticed Sakura wasn't moving. She was the only reason he was here, and if she decided that staying in her car all dressed up and listening to the metal music that Gaara had turned the radio to was her idea of a party, he wasn't going to complain. Her face was drawn, pale, and finally she just buried her face into her hands and gave a slight exasperated groan. It sounded oddly familiar, and it almost hurt to hear it.

"Who am I kidding? I can't go in there!" And then she was babbling about how she was an idiot, which Gaara did agree with, and how after all this time maybe she wasn't ready to face Sasuke or Naruto. She kept talking, and usually Gaara would just tune it out until she was done, but he was already too pissed to let her fall back into her little pity party. Just who did she think she was, making him dress up and then tell him they're just going to sit in this car while she bawled like a dumbass baby?

"You fucking dragged me here. We are going inside." Gaara said sharply, and she looked up at him, startled. It looked like she was close to tears, and he was disappointed to see them. Just the thought of this asshole was sending her to pieces. While he didn't think much of Sakura, he had thought that at least she was over pulling this shit.

"But-" She said, about to argue, but Gaara cut her off by getting out of the car and storming over to her side. She watched him with wide eyes, as if not quite sure whether to be fearful or angry. In a way, she was like him, since she chose the latter. "Gaara, you better stop slamming my door or I swear I will-" Gaara just opened her door, all but dragged her out as she struggled against him, cursing some obscenities. Some actually impressed him enough that he decided he'd jot them down and use them on his siblings. But otherwise unaffected, he slammed her door and locked the car, dragging her along. "Gaara, let go of me!" Sakura was hissing, though he ignored her. It was something that he was proud to say he was good at.

"I am hungry." Gaara said flatly, continuing up the driveway unhindered even though Sakura was resisting as much as humanly possible. "Either you suck up your shit and go in there or you just walk back to your car and let this Sasuke bastard rule your life just because you're too pussy to face him." Sakura looked as if she'd been slapped, her eyes wide and her mouth gaping at him. Then her temper started to flare, and it was something interesting to watch. He wondered why it brought him so much pleasure to piss her off.

"Sasuke does not rule my life! And don't use the word pussy with me, you asshole!" Sakura snapped angrily, and Gaara only gave her a sort of 'oh really, what're you going to do to make me?' kind of smirk before turning back and ringing the doorbell. "Damn it Gaara!" Sakura complained, grabbing his arm to try to tug him away from the doorway. "We need to go before they answer the door!" She nagged, though he ignored her. He did swat away her hands though, forcefully grabbing her by the arm and shoving her so that she was in front of him. He just rang the doorbell to get her to shut up, and even though that plan failed, he didn't want to be the one to greet the partygoers on the other side. He'd had just about enough human contact for tonight. "I hate you, I really hate you." Sakura was crying, though she froze when the door opened widely.

"Sakura!" A white eyed girl said softly, looking surprised to see the pink haired girl though pleased.

"Hi Hinata!" Sakura said brightly, as if she hadn't just been opposed with all of her being to getting out of her car, much less coming to the party.. "This is Gaara. Gaara, this is Hinata." Gaara only glared a greeting while the girl averted her eyes as if his very presence made her scared. Gaara could only hope that everyone else in the party was just like her. Maybe no one would touch him-

"Sakura-chan!" Gaara had to step quickly to the side to avoid being knocked down when a blonde blur suddenly attached itself to Sakura.

"Get off me you idiot!" Was all Sakura had to say to what Gaara assumed was Naruto.

"I missed you! Why didn't you return my calls? We were all worried that some whack job had gotten a hold of you!" Naurto was babbling until Sakura lost her temper and slammed a fist into his side, sending him stumbling back to Hinata. The exchange amused Gaara more than he cared to admit. But then again, he did so like to see others in pain. It was while Naruto was whining that Sakura didn't have to be so rough that he finally saw Gaara. "Sakura-chan don't move. There's a really weird looking guy right behind you who looks like he's about to eat your soul…"

"That's just Gaara. Now can we come in or are we going to have a party outside?" Sakura asked, while Naruto waggled his eyebrows suggestively, about to say something that was no doubt a pearl of wisdom before Hinata ushered them all in. "Don't mind Naruto. He may not be all there mentally, but he has a good heart." Sakura told him, smiling apologetically. Gaara decided that even if Naruto was loud, as long as he decided to stay away from him that he would be fine. The blonde's voice was enough to make him want to try to decapitate him.

The next twenty minutes were dedicated to meeting Sakura's numerous friends, most of whom gave a wide berth of Gaara after sampling his glares, though a few didn't look impressed. Some even looked as if they were even more eager to spend time with him just because of it. One of them was Rock Lee, who was convinced that Gaara just needed to meet as many people as humanly possible so he could open up. Sakura separated the two before Gaara could jump the bowl hair cut sporting youth and rip out a few limbs.

Finally, when he was allowed to go over to the snack table, he gorged himself, if only to make so people were deterred from trying to talk to him and because not being able to maim the numerous people around him had taken a toll. Sakura stuck with him, pointing out people and telling him all about them in a low voice, leg brushing his when she'd lean forward to whisper near his ear.

"And that one is Ino-pig. She's currently trying to bag Choji since he can cook so well and even though she diets a lot, she still likes to stuff her fat face." She paused, then tilted her head to the side, strands of hair brushing his cheek. "She's my best friend other than Naruto." Gaara decided then that the female mind was far too complex for him to even try to figure out, and one he didn't care too much about trying to decode. The food was much more interesting.

However, the constant brush of her limbs against his, whether she was talking to him or someone else, was something that he couldn't help but note too. Was she doing it on purpose? Whenever he glared up at her, she'd flush and apologize, scooting away from him only to slide right back next to him whenever someone else whose life story she had to share with him crossed the room. He was sure the food was the reason he hadn't just slapped her off the couch.

"And then there was this one time," Sakura was saying in between bursts of giggles, "that I dyed her hair bright green when she was sleeping. You should have seen her face! I almost lost all my fingers for that one." She was laughing, and Gaara, never one to be apathetic to others misery, was smirking. Ino struck him as a butterfly, and he had often wished ill on them. Especially the one next to him, though he had been a bit lax with her. He supposed he'd just have to pick up the slack after he finished eating. He'd seen a pool outside that he could possibly push her into. That would entertain him.

When she turned to him, eyes sparkling and lips pulled into a genuine smile, all thoughts about pushing her into a swimming pool vanished instantly. It never failed to distract him when she went to blubbering dumbass to happy hopeful to pissed off cursing punk, though anything was better than when she was crying.

"Gaara…" She was smiling now, a smile that lit up the part of her that he hungered for because it was so pure. "Thank you for making me come in here. I appreciate it." She leaned forward, slowly, eyes searching his own. 'Is this okay?' she had asked before, and just the expression on her face was enough to make him… He didn't pull away, and she laid a chaste kiss on his cheek. Gaara suddenly couldn't remember how to breathe. Shit. She pulled away, still looking at him, though something was hidden in her usually expressive eyes.

Whatever she must have been thinking, it affected her voice, since she breathed out rather huskily, "You inspire me to be better." Which was laughable, seeing as how he'd never done one good deed in his entire misguided life, and he might have made a smart retort had her warmth breath not have tickled his cheek agreeably. Her proximity made him shiver, no matter how much he tried to distance himself. It was hard not to notice how her warmth managed to mingle with his own, even through these hellish clothes. Her hand had somehow wound up rather placidly on his knee, and it seemed all the nerves in his body had decided to set up camp there and every slight movement of her hand registered across his whole body. Her face was still inches from his, and the only time he let himself in such a position was when he was fulfilling 'B', and he felt something that felt like the very butterflies he despised flutter all throughout his body.

He wasn't sure what he would he have done had she not suddenly jerked away from him, a guilty look on her face.

"Oh! Hi Sasuke!" She squeaked out, and when Gaara looked up, green eyes clashing with onyx, he suddenly knew that this party was going to be bloodier than he could ever hope for.

All he could think was, _about fucking time_.

Author's Notes I'm not very pleased with this chapter. It seems that Gaara has already compromised much about who he is just by not wanting to kill everyone as much as he used to. It must be the mall clothes. Hopefully he is still believable this way. I wonder if this is as amusing to read as it is to write, so please read and review! Any comments welcome!


	4. Fridays

**Fridays**

_Gaara knows even before Sakura mutters his name who this guy is. Sasuke Uchiha. The guy she had waited for patiently all her life, the guy he is supposed to remind her of. And somehow, he can see himself in this arrogant bastard, but they are still very different. Sasuke has love showered upon him, even though he remains cold to all forms of affection. He thinks himself better than everyone else because he was blessed with a face, though Gaara can fix that soon enough. He knows that Sasuke is thinking the same thing, his eyes a threat. Even though Sakura was convinced Sasuke doesn't care for her, it's obvious that the fact that Gaara has been the one she's been lavishing attention on hasn't escaped the guy who was too stupid to keep her. His loss._

_Sakura shifts, nervously because she's both aware that they don't like each other already and because this is the closest she's been to Sasuke in about two months. The old longing is there, as always, but it's not the same, she's surprised to notice. It's almost as if she had been playing a part that she had assigned to herself, only to find out that she hadn't gotten the role and didn't need to pretend anymore. It made her sad yet oddly elated at the same time. _

"_What's your name?" Sasuke says, not nicely, sizing him up and deciding that perhaps Gaara is worth the effort. They both wear identical feral smirks, like two predators finding each other trespassing on what they consider their territory. It's not going to be pretty, but Gaara was never one to be intimidated by anyone. He was always the scariest monster on the block._

"_Gaara." He answers, a challenge as he stares impassively at his opponent. This fucker is going to get it bad if he thinks that he can stand up to him. Somehow, he feels the old urge for blood and destruction welling up in his veins, and he welcomes the delicious feeling. It always made him feel alive to know that he could sap someone of blood or break their bones until there weren't anymore left in their body to help them stand. He hadn't realized up until this point how… peaceful Sakura made him feel. He wasn't sure if this observation was a good or bad thing._

_Sakura by now, seemed to understand that this was more than hard headed animosity, and was looking back and forth with an alert look on her face._

_"Gaara…" She said in a warning voice, though he doesn't bother to spare her a glance. He wants to fight this guy, more than he had anyone before. Perhaps this was the person whose fall would finally bring him the feeling of nirvana that he had longed for… "Oh, hey look! We better go separate Kiba and Naruto! Come on Gaara, let's go." Without waiting for an answer, she dragged him away from Sasuke, though the way that the guy was looking after them, longingly for Sakura and full of a dark hatred for him, Gaara knew that no matter what Sakura pulled out of her sleeve, he was still going to clash with the brooding man who once had ruled her life._

_Though Sakura did her best to keep them apart, she couldn't completely erase Sasuke out of the picture. It was nearing the end of the party and Sakura was off thanking Naruto for the great time that Gaara didn't have so he didn't feel inclined to stay with her, when Sasuke challenged him. It wasn't so much in words as it was a fist flying towards his face._

_The lust for pain and blood was an audible roar in his ears, and soon the two of them were a blur, trading blows like most people would fucking pleasantries, everything in their wake being destroyed in the maelstrom. _

_"P-P-Please!" Hinata cries, wringing her hands in distress as she tried to get near them as if to separate them but fear kept her a safe distance away. "Don't do that here!" Gaara decided he'd damaged enough furniture and could comply with her request. He managed to pick up the Uchiha and bodily throw him out the door into the front yard, right past a startled Sakura._

_"Gaara! Stop it!" However Sasuke's on him in a flash, the two bleeding from countless face wounds, skin marred with matching bruises. "Sasuke what the hell are you doing?" It took ten minutes to separate them, Sakura and Hinata holding Gaara back while Naruto proved to be more than enough to hold Sasuke back. "What are you doing?" Sakura hisses angrily in his ear, and it might have had a pleasant affect on him if he wasn't hungering to break every bone in a certain dark haired boy's body._

_"He started it, I'll finish it." Gaara growls gutturally, and from the fearful look on Hinata's and even Naruto's face, he was sure it was the dreaded expression his siblings often ran from, tails between their legs. _

_"What did you do? I leave you alone for five minutes and you manage to destroy half of Naruto's furniture!" Sakura accuses, her tone of voice hurting him far worse than anyone who had ever called him monster. And that fact alone made him angrier than Sasuke could ever make him. He was the one to blame, was he? Well, he'd show her. _

_"It's what you did, Sakura." Gaara laughs, almost insanely, feeling the few inhibitions he had slipping away like sand between his fingers. If these bitches didn't let go of him soon, they'll be missing limbs. _

_She freezes for a moment, and it's almost enough to set him free, but when she regains her senses, her strength doubles on his arm. He gave a warning snarl to let him go, but she ignored him._

_"Uchiha Sasuke, are you fighting with him because I was with him instead of you?" The dark eyed man didn't say anything to deny or confirm this, but his eyes are flashing with a murderous intent that mirrored Gaara's own. However, everyone is acutely aware of the ache in him, this wound that Sakura inflicted there by merely drawing away from him. From finding someone better. It seems that even if he doesn't love her, which he hasn't come to terms with, he wants her to love him and only him. The fact that she's shown up with an unknown male who eats up all her attention kills him. He can't let that happen, but then again, he's not the only one hurting here._

_Sakura's in front of Sasuke, the sound of a hard slap meeting flesh and the stunned expression on the Uchiha's face a slow snapshot that Gaara is sure he'll treasure forever. Bastard deserved it. _

_Gaara has stopped his struggling in favor of watching Sakura take care of this herself. When she had shown her darker side she managed to keep caged, it was far worse than anything Gaara could ever do. Seeing her tear down cities, people, and obstacles in her path had stirred something primal and dark within him, and his only salvation was she rarely if ever got pissed enough to unleash the beast she kept caged within her skin. It was a temptation he almost never has to deal with._

"_What is wrong with you?" Sakura is shaking so hard that the tears that she had been trying to keep behind her eyes spilled out. "Don't you remember?" Sasuke is unmoving, his eyes focused on her, both of them the only actors in this play that only the both of them can ever know since they have been the only witnesses. "'You are a hindrance to my life and happiness. You would be more useful dead.'" She says this in a rather detached voice, and Sasuke is looking at her with his expression unreadable. If Gaara wasn't so much like him in an odd way, he wouldn't have been able to know that Sasuke truly regrets saying those things. But it's too late for him to even take them back, they all know it. "That cut me so deep Sasuke, and though I've taken so much from you, I couldn't take that. So I decided if I was a hindrance to you, then I'd just leave. I went out and got drunk and who knows what would have happened to me if I hadn't met Gaara." Sasuke's looking at him like he's about to kill him and eat his insides, and to this Gaara can only smile. It feels good, to be the savior for once._

_Sakura wipes her tears away, glancing down at them with the clinical interest she must give her patients._

"_I've cried too much over you, Sasuke. I've given up too much. I don't have much more to give, and I'm tired of hanging onto you when it's apparent to me that you were the one holding me back." She pauses, an almost sheepish expression crossing her face. "Not that it's anyone's fault but my own. I was stupid back then. I thought you could be my true love, but I know now that love can be more than misery and tears." She's quiet for the longest time, and Gaara can feel everyone waiting breathlessly for her next words. Hell, even he wants to know what will happen between them. _

_In a strong voice that Gaara is glad to hear, since it's the only voice Sakura has used around him sans the first time they met incident, she looks the bastard straight in the eye and says softly, "I don't love you anymore." The guy takes it well, Gaara has to give him that, but all the fight is drained out of him. It's almost sad, but Gaara is pleased all the same to see how Sakura deals with her foes. He's not sure if her method makes him want to fear her or…_

_Without looking at Sasuke, she turns back to him, a fragile but beautiful smile on her face. Wordlessly, he nods his head in approval and her smile widens even as tears fall down her face. She's transformed, he knows, and the moment her hand meets his and she looks up at him and tells him to ink her, he knows exactly what he's going to do. _

_But he'll have to save that for another Friday, since there were other things much too pressing to wait… _

Gaara hates Fridays.

It isn't because of the costumers, because he knew soon enough they'll leave him in peace and if they piss him off enough, he can just get Temari. The two of them have reluctantly started working together, and now that he decided her nagging was just her way of showing affection instead of an effort to remind him why he should kill her, he reaps in the benefits. Such as shoving the butterflies her way. It isn't because Kankuro has stopped paying him to wear the fucking nametag and is slowly but surely becoming less afraid to speak to him, though Gaara still finds himself wearing the wretched abomination and sometimes not minding that Kankuro isn't as straight as Gaara himself. It isn't even because Friday is the one day that Sakura's friends have deemed appropriate to visit him, and he has to suffer through Rock Lee's energetic speeches about youth or Naruto's preaching about the benefits of Ramen or Ino's bitchy voice.

He hates Fridays for the sole reason that he has come to look forward to them. Fridays are unofficially Sakura's day where she spends most of it with him. It is also the day he works on her tattoo. The amount of… tranquility that spreads across him whenever she strides in through the non-hooker bell guarded door makes him sick. Really, one pink haired butterfly shouldn't have this affect on him. But she does, and he hates it. Or something else that is equally strong.

They had finally settled on a tattoo the night that Sakura confronted Sasuke. _"I want you to ink my transformation. I don't care what it is so long as it is me."_

And Gaara can't be more pleased. About fucking time. It doesn't even bother him that this tattoo has to be the most challenging one he'd been commissioned to do since he'd decided to ink himself, or that it has some pink settled in it. Overall, he knows she'd love it because it was her. Every bit of her, and Gaara was proud to say that it was he who captured her.

She walks in every Friday, making his breath hitch in his throat, though this no longer bothers him because he's become used to it, smiling at him that lets him know it's only for him. Her eyes light up and she practically jumps into his arms. He doesn't mind her touch so much as he should, though he has to admit that it feels good to have her fit snugly into him as if she was the piece that the world stole from him only to bring back. He won't say anything romantic to her, but they both know that they've changed each other. _"You've given me much more than ink. You gave me back my spirit."_

She waits until he's finished for the day, when the lights are down low and it's only them because Temari and Kankuro understand the unspoken promises between the two. When it's just them, Gaara works on transforming her.

He's finished everything but a few shades of coloring, and he knows the only reason it's taken him so many sessions is because Sakura is a lot more distracting than she should be, though he really never wanted to rush this anyway. This is Sakura. She deserves only the best, even if somehow she believes it's him. _"I trust you."_

"Try to finish it this time Gaara." She teases, and he only lets her get away with it since she's taking off her shirt, which isn't a requirement, but he allows this for some odd reason. Then she sits down in the chair, back facing him, and he admires the work he's done so far, tracing a finger across the dark outline of her wings, smirking when she shivers agreeable and gasps a little. He's had to actually look up pictures of the creatures he used to despise so, still does when it comes to girls like Ino, but when he sees butterfly wings on her, it just makes sense.

He's woven in everything about her, good and bad. Hearts, flowers, trees, tiny butterflies, bells, vines, thorns, crystals, tears, kanji for love and laugher. He manages to twine them into the black outline of the wings, all the while coloring in the good because he knows those are what stand out brightest about her. He uses reds and pinks and greens and yellows to shade in the color of her character, and as he starts up the machine again, he knows this time is going to be the last. She's almost complete, and he knows that this will be her only tattoo. Neither of them need reminders of what love is. There is something living and breathing between them, and even though Gaara hates this, he also needs it. He's learned it's easier to live with it than to deny it.

They don't say a word as he finishes, there is no need, and when he's done he rests his chin on her shoulder, arms loosely around her.

"I hope you don't do this for all your costumers." She teases, and though she talks just as much as she did when he met her, she's learned the value of silence just as he's learned that laughter is golden.

"I should. I might get better tips." Gaara muses, and she can only laugh. There's quiet again, and he feels her inner peace, knowing that her metamorphous from a caterpillar dependent on a toxic someone else for joy to a free flying butterfly is complete. The feel of each other's beating heart, captured like the elusive butterfly of happiness, is enough to make them both feel satisfied.

Author's Notes Hope this was decent! To tell the truth, I was going to make this way, way longer, but I decided not to drag out an already stretched story. This was short since I decided not much point in letting so many words getting in the way and just trying to capture how different both of them are now compared to how they were in the beginning. I hope that I kept them somewhat believable, and that this was enjoyable. Any comments are welcome! Thank you those who reviewed and for those who support!


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